


Four Times Dean Winchester Guesses Wrong

by no_regrets_coyote (athenadevice)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5+1 Things, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Coming Out, Growing Up, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Self-Acceptance, Violence, author doesn't believe in gaydar, baby queer! dean winchester, except it's 4+1 things because author is lazy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 04:56:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12720084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athenadevice/pseuds/no_regrets_coyote
Summary: Dean Winchester is a man of many talents. Gaydar is not one of them.





	Four Times Dean Winchester Guesses Wrong

 1.

He’s a small nerdy-looking dude, thin without the trace of the typical high school boy’s need for alpha-maleness. He wears glasses, plays in band, and is called gay and a faggot by the football team on a regular basis. 

And Dean thought he would be a safe bet.  

While Dean might pretend to cheer with the other guys and doesn’t do anything to interfere, he’s secretly attracted to the nebbish guy named Thomas, whose dark hair and blue eyes and inability to go through the day without getting his books dumped into the trash, replaces his fantasies of big-boobed models in his morning showers. 

By seventeen Dean knows that being attracted to dudes will ruin his life. His father, his brother, Bobby — they would all look at him differently if they knew. Would look down on him for being this way. So he keeps this part of him to himself and learns to play it safe. 

Thomas looks safe. 

So it takes him by surprise after he rescues Thomas’s books from the nearest garbage bin and offers to take him on a date that Thomas looks at him with open disgust, the thankful expression replaced by hatred and horror. 

It’s the first time in Dean’s life that he’s ever seen this reaction directed at him by another human being. Of course, it certainly won’t be the last. 

He corners Thomas the next day and threatens the dude, swearing if he hears anything about what happened the day before, he’ll pay, because Dean Winchester isn’t some fucking queer. 

Three days later, Dean finds himself behind a bleacher, sucking the cock of one of the jocks who trashed Thomas’ books in the first place. 

 

 

2. 

Dean’s nineteen and should know better. 

He’s been in this life since he was four years old and because of this, he has grown up tougher and older than his years. He has killed beings (not humans, just sick imitations of them), has hunted, and has travelled across the country more times than he can count. He’s faced monsters, had limbs broken, and has seen more than any of his peers, and there are permanent markings across his young body that can prove this.

Yet, this is the first time he’s ever been truly scared for his life. 

This is his mistake. He should know that bars like this — bars filled with tough bikers, road-weary truckers and seasoned hunters — are not the places where you stick your neck out. 

But he swears the guy was flirting with him. 

The dude is in his late twenties, maybe early thirties, is built like a lumberjack with blonde hair and tough brown eyes and he’s clearly flirting with Dean. 

Dean knows the signs — the constant glances at his lips, the offer of another drink, the way he laughs at all of Dean’s dumb jokes. The guy wants to get with him, and Dean, with Dad and Sammy both busy on a case, doesn’t mind that at all.  

But when they exit the bar together and Dean leans over and kisses the guy, he gets smacked in the face. 

“What the fuck are you doing? You fag!” 

He’s heard the term thrown at small thin dudes who like theatre, has heard his father curtly use it when passing certain men, has heard it tossed around locker rooms for the entirety of his high school career, but it’s never been directly aimed at him. 

He would be outraged, but the guy lands another punch, catching him off guard, and Dean is on the ground before he can protest. Another blow is aimed at him and he can feel blood on his face and the air leaving his lungs. He can’t see out of one of his eyes and there’s the taste of iron in his mouth. The man starts kicking him and Dean doesn’t react, doesn’t do anything, just curls up into a ball, crying out for help. If his dad could see him now…

The guy keeps kicking and Dean thinks, honestly thinks, he’s going to die here in some alleyway behind a skeevy bar, not by a monster, but by a human. But the guy grows tired and Dean is left curled up, moaning and thoroughly bruised. He’s pretty sure a rib or two is broken. 

He tells his dad that he got jumped after cheating in a game of pool. 

His dad tells him he deserved that and Dean wonders if John would have the same response if Dean told him what really happened. 

 

3. 

It’s the first time that he’s worked a case completely on his own. Sammy’s gone and Dad keeps disappearing, keeps leaving Dean with nothing better to do. Dean scouts out a haunting, something simple, something he can’t fail at, so he can prove that he can do this, that he can make his dad proud. 

Of course, it all goes to shit. 

Not the case itself, which is surprisingly easy. It’s the afterwards that gets a little messy. 

The guy whose apartment is haunted is grateful, like really really grateful. Once Dean comes back, dirty and smelling of gasoline and decay, the guy, David, offers him a drink. 

“You do this all the time?” David asks. “Like you burn bodies?”

“Only if they’re causing trouble,” Dean says, taking a swig of his beer. 

“That’s so cool, man. So cool.” 

Maybe it’s the alcohol (it’s probably that), maybe it’s because David makes him feel good about what he does, makes it worth it, and maybe it’s because he’s kind of adorable, geeking out like this, Dean leans forwards and kisses him. 

David freezes beneath him and Dean pulls away, disappointed and worried, waiting for the slurs, for the shouting to begin. David just looks puzzled though, a little stunned. 

“Oh god, I’m sorry, I didn't mean that,” Dean rushes out. 

“No, no. It’s okay,” David reaches out (and Dean pretends he doesn’t lean in, doesn’t crave the touch). “I’m not mad. I’m just processing this. I’m just surprised that’s all. That you would want this.” 

So Dean leans in again, but David pulls back. 

“I’m not gay,” he says kindly, but firmly. 

“I’m not either.” 

“I’m also not bi.” 

“Bi?” Dean asks, the term feels foreign and uncomfortable rolling off his tongue. David’s face lights up as he explains what it means, what other terms means, how the capacity of human love is not contained in just two little terms. 

Dean might not have gotten laid that night, but he learns. He practices the word “bisexual” in the mirror, looking at himself, in his mind going over and over the term till it becomes as familiar on his tongue as the taste of greasy roadside burgers and convenience store pie. 

Sometimes, when his dad is gone, Dean even says it out loud. 

 

4. 

This time it’s not Dean’s fault. 

The dude was definitely flirting with him- and not like the knock three times on a bathroom stall door, quick glances in the park, kind of flirting. 

No, this guy, this tiny dude, clearly has the hots for Dean. He’s been giving him the old goo-goo eyes, discreetly glancing away but also saying, “come talk with me” while Dean was trying to interview two seniors about a dead Rabbi. Plus, the guy went on about how they had a “little eye magic” and Dean’s flustered because never in his life has anyone dared to outright flirt with him like that (outside gay bars and truck stops, of course). There’s not two meanings about this, this guy is into Dean. 

Until he’s not. 

Turns out Dean’s gay thing is way less gay than he thought. 

“So let me get this straight, you’re…” Dean waves his hands around the general area of Aaron. 

“Like I said, I was tailing you,” Aaron replies, pushing a stein of beer towards him. “Gotta say, kind of didn’t expect it to go down that way, thought you might punch me for flirting with you.” 

“You couldn’t tell? Like it wasn’t obvious that I… I like dudes too.” There’s a panic bubbling inside, a worry that comes from a life of not only hiding his sexuality, but everything else about himself. 

“Not ‘til you hit that table,” Aaron chuckles. 

“Just my luck,” Dean mumbles. 

“Dude, I’m sorry if I led you on. I honestly just panicked and that was the first thing that came to mind. I’m cool with it,” he quickly adds when he sees Dean’s face, which is probably red. “Actually I’m flattered that you would be interested. You’re a really attractive guy! Like if I swung that way, I would.” 

“Well, you don’t.” 

“I don’t,” Aaron confirms, his voice friendly, with no hint of judgement or disgust. “And to apologize, I’ll buy you another beer.” 

It could’ve been worse, hell, it has been worse, so Dean accepts the beer and lets an evening of small talk and chatter wash away any of the embarrassment he has left. 

 

+1

_“I’m indifferent to sexual orientations.”_

Dean remembers hearing that line on the news, loud and clear, and thinking, “but what does that mean?” 

Does it mean Cas is above sexual identities or does it mean he doesn’t care about what humans decide to label their sex lives. Not that he really has time to process it, what with Cas being God and all. 

And after that…

Well, maybe he thinks about it, wonders what it means for _him_ , but he also places it in the back of his mind, something he can figure out later. Maybe once the world isn’t about to be taken over by ancient dicks, maybe when Cas isn’t, you know, _dead._

And it pops into his mind as an angry thought, a bitter reminder when Cas does come back from the dead, this time married to a woman and looking at Dean like he’s a stranger and it hurts, it fucking hurts, because all Dean can think is _but what does this mean for us?_ The question weighs heavy, and when Cas really comes back, Dean feels like he can breathe again, that he can stand up and deal with the world, but course, Cas decides to take all that hurt, all that crazy and put it back into him, and Dean is left, once again, with questions and uncertainties.  

There’s a moment, he thinks, where he might have his answer, but it’s gone when Cas decides to stay behind, letting Dean and Benny escape, and now Dean’s left with nothing. 

And so, Dean learns to accept that some questions can never be answered, not for him anyways. 

But then, he gets his answer. 

It happens once everything has died out, when there’s no leviathans left, when Cas isn’t dead or Emmanuel or crazy, when the gates of hell are closed, when there’s no mark of Cain burning on his skin, when there’s no heaven or hell on their backs, that’s when he gets his answer and he no longer has to guess. 

He’s leaning against the counter, making a sandwich, when the question comes back into his head. 

“ _I’m indifferent to sexual orientation_.”  

It makes him drop his knife and turn to Cas, who has looked up quickly from the clatter on the counter.  

“Dean?” he inquires, although most of his attention is still on the book in front of him. Beekeeping, maybe? Cas has been talking a lot lately about getting some hives, but Dean’s not sure if he’s joking or not. 

Dean’s not really sure what’s going on with Cas. Sure, he’s living with them and all that, but is that what Cas really wants? Is he just staying here because of some misplaced loyalty to the brothers? Because he has nowhere else to go?  _And what did Cas mean all those years ago?_

“Dean,” Cas repeats, clearly amused. 

“Huh? What?”

“Are you okay?”

 _I’m fine,_ is what he plans on saying, but instead it comes out as “Cas-do-you-remember-all-those-years-ago-when-you-were-God-and-you-said-you-didn’t-care-about-sexual-orientation? What-did-you-mean? Like-do-you-care-that-I’m-Bi? Does-that-matter-to-you?” 

Cas smiles, rising from the table and stands next to Dean. 

“It means that I’m an angel and that we do not have genders, don’t understand the concept of sexual orientations or identities. It means this…” 

And Cas leans over, gently grabbing Dean’s chin, and kisses him, kisses out all those self-doubts, all that self-loathing, kisses out any questions that might still be in Dean’s head. 

Cas pulls away, taking the sandwich-filled plate with him. 

“And that means,” he says, taking a bite of the sandwich, “that you don’t have to guess about us.” 

 


End file.
